I Did It All For You
by RobinByrd
Summary: No matter how many times he told himself that what he was doing was wrong and selfish, his heart kept telling him that this was right. Dean was his to protect, even from something as simple as dark thoughts. This was what he was fighting for. Heaven and Hell be damned, this man was worth fighting for.
1. Freakin' Angels

**Soooo not sure whether this is a one-shot, or if I'm going to write more, but for right now, it's a one-shot. The whole inspiration came from the line "I'm hunted. I've rebelled. And I did it, all of it, for you." I just kind of ran with it. This is my first Supernatural fic EVER, so please let me know how it is. Did I portray the characters all right? Is there anything that needs to be changed? Any suggestions for where I should go from here? Pleeeease review and let me know! With a cherry on top? **

* * *

"I killed two angels this week. My brothers. I'm hunted. I've rebelled and I did it, all of it, for you." Castiel's eyes were like blue steel, hard and unyielding. "And you failed... and I lost everything - for nothing."

"I never asked for that," Dean said defensively. "You're capable of making your own choices."

Anger flared in Castiel's eyes and several of the street lights suddenly burst into brilliant sparks, and despite the lack of light, Castiel's eyes only seemed to shine brighter. "Maybe I made the wrong choice after all," he grated out as he turned from Dean. "I thought you were different."

There was a rustle of wings, and he was gone... and Dean stood there in the dark, utterly alone, and feeling like a complete ass.

* * *

It had been days. _Freakin' days_. Castiel had still not appeared.

Dean thought that he could make it right, that he could somehow say something to fix the mess he had gotten himself into... but Cas refused to show. He had prayed and prayed. He had yelled until his voice had gone hoarse. He had cried until there was no tears left. He had begged on his knees, thrown himself to the ground in desperation...

Still there was nothing.

He paced his dingy hotel room, wondering why he had ever thought that he was unaffected by the angel. Wondering why he was so stupid, why he didn't see how much Castiel had sacrificed just by being his friend, by helping him, let alone turning his back on heaven. Why had he not seen before that this amazing celestial being that had raised him from perdition was his brother, his family, his comrade in arms? Why had he not seen how absolutely vital Cas had been in his life, even more so than Sam lately? Why had he been such an asshole when he should have been thanking the guy? A million questions that he asked himself, and he had not a single answer.

At some point, Dean had stopped pacing. He looked at nothing, a half drunken bottle of Glenfiddich clutched in his hand, the rough carpet doing nothing to ease the pain as he fell to his knees. Tears fell down his face silently, his body unable to process the request and going for it all the same. He felt numb, but his eyes still leaked, his hands still trembled. He prayed.

"Cas," he whispered, his voice hoarse. "Please, Cas... I need you."

His brain finally caught up with his body and he began to sob, his head falling into his hands as he kneeled on the dirty carpet. His breath refused to come to him except in small gasps, and the pathetic sounds he was making should have embarrassed him, but he just didn't care anymore. There was no one listening anyway. So he gave in to his self-pity. He let his heart break as he tried to accept that he may have lost the best - no, the _only_ - friend he had ever had.

"I'm sorry," he gasped between sobs. "I'm so fucking sorry, Cas. I need you. God damn it, Cas, _I fucking need you_!"

He continued to sob, falling to the carpet in a heap, his scotch forgotten and falling from his hands, the bottle shattering - just another stain on the dirty floor. His hands reached up to cover his face as he cried. Broken words kept falling from his lips, meaningless and incoherent.

"Dean."

He screamed. He was so tired of these illusions. He wanted them to _stop_. He knew Cas was never coming back, he knew he deserved it. Why couldn't his brain just leave it alone? Why wouldn't his soul let him move on? God damn it, he'd lost family before and gotten through it. He could get through this. His fingers grasped at the carpet, finding a piece of the broken scotch bottle. He grabbed it and squeezed. He willed the pain in his heart to flow out through the pain in his hand. He felt the blood spilling and dripping, and squeezed harder. "Go away!" he cried. "You're not here! You're not coming back!" His words echoed in the almost empty space. He had never felt so alone.

"Dean! _Stop_!"

He felt strong hands on him. One was holding down his arm while the other pried open the fingers that were wrapped around the glass. He sobbed brokenly. "No, no I deserve this!" he pleaded. "Let it bleed! I _deserve_ it!"

"You deserve to be saved, Dean Winchester," a gravelly voice said as the glass was pulled from his hand. "I meant it the first time, and I mean it now."

Suddenly the pain in Dean's hand was gone, and his head had quieted enough for him to look for the source of the voice. His eyes met the piercing blue he had seen so many times in his dreams, only here they were filled with sadness rather than hate.

Several times he tried to speak, but his throat didn't want to work. He finally managed to barely whisper, "Cas."

"Dean," Cas said, his voice broken, deeper then usual. "I'm so sorry."

Dean reached up with newly healed hand, resting it on Castiel's cheek. "You came," he rasped. "I prayed and prayed... you finally came."

"Yes," Cas rasped. "I came, Dean. I'm sorry I waited so long. I didn't realize..."

"It's okay," Dean said, a small smile lighting his face and making his green eyes darken slightly. "You're here. That's all that matters."

And then Dean Winchester's world went black.


	2. Nightmares

Cas stayed.

Dean had passed out hours ago, and despite the fact that he was furious with him, he couldn't bring himself to leave. He had come not because Dean had prayed, but because Dean had_ hurt_. The pain Dean was carrying in his heart had been so overwhelming, so consuming, that Castiel, despite his better judgment, could not stay away any longer. He had intended to be calm and aloof, intended to be there without really being there. He had intended to act as an angel would...

But when he found Dean gripping that piece of glass like it was his lifeline, gripping it so hard that it sank into his skin and tore through muscle and veins alike, he couldn't just pretend he didn't care.

Because he did.

A lot.

Castiel watched over Dean as he slept on that dingy motel floor, thankful to see that in sleep his face was peaceful. Thankful that he hadn't ignored this particular prayer... and yet, he couldn't help but to ask himself_ "Why would God choose me to save him, to protect him? Why would he put me through this pain?"_

It had been bothering him since the second he had raised Dean. His feelings, that is... because before Dean Winchester, he had never had any. He had been a soldier, nothing more. He did God's bidding, a grunt in the garrison. He couldn't help but realize that that part of him was slipping away. Even more disturbing was that it didn't bother him one bit. He found himself fighting for something he believed in rather then fighting because it was demanded of him. And he believed in Dean Winchester, and it felt _good_ to believe in him.

And now as he looked down at the damaged man who had prayed to him so desperately, he felt regretful and... possessive. Dean was his. Dean was always meant to be his, to protect and to love and to... just be there for. He wanted to believe that he didn't need this human, that he didn't feel it down to his very core, but the truth was that he did. He hated that he didn't know why.

Dean stirred slightly in Castiel's arms, a small sound of discomfort escaping his lips as he tried to readjust his position. Cas flew them to the bed, careful not to wake Dean as he adjusted the pillows and blankets around him before taking a seat on the couch closest to Dean. He watched as Dean moved around a bit more, finally stilling, his breathing slowing to that of a sleeping man.

"Don't worry," Castiel whispered. "I'll watch over you."

* * *

_Dean's breath left him as his back hit the wall, the demon holding him there with some unseen force. His face twisted in to a malicious grin, ugly yellow teeth on full display. Dean tried to fight it, but there was no escaping him. Raspy laughter left his lips as he watched Dean struggle._

_"My, my, but the Winchesters are spirited," the demon hissed, his voice inhuman and venomous, his black eyes examining every inch of Dean, making him feel beyond dirty. "Sam fought too," the demon said with a glance to the left. "But we both know how that ended."_

_Dean's eyes, against his will, followed those of the demon's and came to rest on Sam's bloody and broken corpse. Not his body... it wasn't his body... because Sam wasn't in there anymore. Glassy grey-blue eyes stared at nothing, his ridiculously long hair was matted in blood and sweat. He didn't go down without a fight. Dean heard himself sob against his will, and the demon laughed._

_"I do love a good show," he whispered in that same venomous voice, taking slow steps toward Dean. "Your brother gave me quite a jolly... but I think I can do better."_

_The demon was so close now that Dean could smell his rotted breath, could feel the unnatural heat coming off of his body. He turned his face away, closing his eyes, praying to anyone who would listen that it would end quickly, that it wouldn't hurt too badly. And for the love of GOD, he prayed that awful breath didn't follow him into the next life_.

"Dean."

_He pushed his eyelids tighter, ignoring his hallucination. Cas wasn't there. He was gone, he had left, and Sam lay dead and broken on the floor. He was alone, and he knew it. There was no escape. Another choked and desperate sound left his lips, and in his desperation, he really didn't care. He was alone anyway, no one was coming to save him. No one cared enough to save him..._

"Dean!"

_"Make it quick," he begged. "Or don't, I don't care. Just fucking KILL me already. At least promise that you'll kill me..."_

_He felt a blade being pressed gently to his throat, and felt the hot air of the demon's breath on his cheek. "What fun is there in that, Winchester?" the demon purred. "I'd rather hear you scream..."_

"DEAN!"

* * *

Dean shot up, his breathing ragged, his heart heavy, and his head pounding. He looked at around the room briefly before falling back into the pillows, eyes closed, determined to slow his erratic breathing and thundering heart beat, determined to regain control. He went through the process of calming down slowly, carefully, like his father had taught him.

"Dean, stay awake."

Once again Dean shot up, this time looking to his left at the angel that stood there. Castiel was wearing his usual tan trench coat, his hair as dark and windblown as ever. His eyes shone with familiar brightness, with life, though his brow furrowed over them in obvious concern. He stood half concealed in shadow, far too close to the wall, his hands fisted and trembling, his eyes wide.

"Cas?" Dean asked in a raspy whisper.

A ghost of a smile came across Castiel's face. "I am here, Dean. Please. Stay awake. I don't want to see that again."

Dean stood immediately, grasping Cas by his ridiculous coat and pulling into a fierce hug. "Anything you want, Cas. Fuck man, I'd jump on a landmine if you asked me to right now."

Dean held on to him for several long moments before Cas finally, and incredibly awkwardly, wrapped his arms around Dean, returning the embrace.

"Do you remember what happened before you slept?" Castiel said quietly into Dean's ear, his soft, warm breath brushing over Dean's skin and sending involuntary chills down his spine.

"Yes," Dean admitted.

Cas sighed, pulling away to look at Dean, keeping one hand on his shoulder. "I'm sorry that I did that to you," he said seriously. "I should never have left you."

Dean smiled faintly, his hand coming up to rest on Castiel's neck. "It doesn't matter," he smiled. "As long as you never, _ever_ do that again. God, Cas, I was lost with out you." Dean ran a hand through his hair, the one that wasn't currently resting on Castiel's neck, and dropped his eyes. "I... I..." he stuttered. Finally he took a deep breath and looked into Cas's ever-curious eyes. "I need you. I'm sorry, Cas... but I need you."


	3. I Need You, Too

Dean had fallen asleep again, this time with Castiel in his bed.

Cas sat with his legs stretched out before him, ankles crossed, his back against the headboard of the bed as Dean slept soundly beside him. Dean slept in a way that somewhat resembled the fetal position, his legs pulled up towards his chest, his arms crossed lightly over his heart, facing away from Castiel. Castiel was sure to keep one hand lightly rested on Dean's shoulder, just above where his hands had left burns in Dean's flesh, monitoring the flow of his dreams. He wasn't going to let him fall back in to a nightmare, not if he could prevent it with this simple touch. He made sure that Dean slept soundly, sending a soft flow of energy through his vessel's palms to keep him at ease, to keep his dreams soft and calm.

Many thoughts went through the angel's mind as he watched over his human. He should be in Heaven, he should be fighting, he should be listening to orders and definitely _not_ monitoring mortal dreams. No matter how many times he told himself that what he was doing was wrong and selfish, his heart kept telling him that this was right. Dean was _his_ to protect, even from something as simple as dark thoughts. This was what he was fighting for. Heaven and Hell be damned, this man was worth fighting for and he would fight for him until the day he ceased to exist. Which may be soon, he mused, if he continued with this line of thought. But once again, Castiel refused to care about the consequences, because that's what his heart told him to do. It was one of the first decisions of his very own that he had ever made... and he loved it.

Dean stirred beside him and Castiel snapped to attention, instantly searching for dark thoughts and sending out more waves of calm. This time, though, there were no dark thoughts, and as Dean rolled over, he whispered one word that had Castiel's breath catch in his throat.

"Cas..." Dean mumbled as he rolled over towards the angel, his right arm stretching out to rest over Castiel's legs. A small smile lit his face before the smoothness of sleep once again fell over his features. He had never awoken, but somehow Cas knew that was only because he was there for Dean to hold on to. His hand left Dean's shoulder and absently brushed through his hair, his fingers trembling slightly. Dean smiled softly again in his sleep, scooting his body closer to the angel until his head was resting on Castiel's thigh. Castiel's vessel reacted, the muscles in his face pulling tight as he smiled for the first time in his long and lonely life.

* * *

Dean woke up with a surprising alertness, feeling more well-rested than he could ever remember feeling. His whole body was relaxed and his mind was ridiculously calm. It was the first time in a long time that he didn't feel sad or angry or vengeful or... much of anything, really. He was content. He was at peace... and it was totally fucking wrong. He rolled onto his back and looked up at the ceiling, eyebrows furrowed as he tried to remember the events of the night before. He remembered being pissed, annoyed and depressed and buying the bottle of Glenfiddich that he had recklessly starting drinking in his car before checking into the motel. He remembered pacing the room as he chugged the scotch, and he remembered yelling for Castiel.

"Good morning, Dean," a soft, deep voice said from the opposite side of the room.

Dean jumped up, looking at the voice in question and met the steely blue eyes of his favourite angel.

"Cas," he said quietly. "What are you doing here?"

A ghost of a sad smile played at the corners of Castiel's lips. "You don't remember?"

Dean did. Everything came back in a rush, and embarrassment flooded his body. He was glad Cas was back, but he hoped he could pass the rest off as too much alcohol. "Not much," Dean lied.

Cas looked away, focusing on anything but the curious look on Dean's face. His eyes settled on a cheap print of a landscape hanging on the wall. "You called," he grated out. "I came."

Dean sat up straighter, wrapping his arms loosely around his knees. He half-smiled as he said, "Oh. Why now?"

Cas met Dean's eyes, his heart filling with sadness as he remembered the night before. He was somewhat relieved that Dean didn't remember, but at the same time, he wished that he did. For him, it was one of the most important nights of his life. He finally let out a long sigh, once again looking away from Dean. "Because I was afraid that if I didn't," he whispered, "that I would lose you forever... and I hate to admit it, Dean... but I need you too."

* * *

**A/N: Please please pleeeease review! And thank you so much for reading! Let me know if I should continue with this, guys, 'cause I'm really not sure. **


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